


my days here are done

by avosettas



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Autistic Beetlejuice, Child Abuse, Demon Maitlands, Gen, Graphic Description of Car Accidents, Human Beetlejuice, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sad Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: There’s a fine line betweenalready afraidandtraumatized.Traumatized kids are harder to scare - if one demon fucks up a kid, then the next demon assigned to them could have a lot of trouble. Barbara and Adam don’t like to cause too much trouble, as a courtesy to their fellow demons.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland
Comments: 6
Kudos: 138





	my days here are done

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE heed the warnings, this is much darker than what i usually write. no happy endings here. 
> 
> thank u to SoloChaos/@armpit-of-orion for letting me bounce ideas off u (also sorry for RUINING YOUR LIFE with this fic)  
> my tumblr is @asriells if anyone wants to talk about beetlejuice

“I wish we were better at spatial magic,” Adam says, voice muffled slightly by the box spring. Their new charge had a bed frame that was broken on one corner - easy to make creak for scaring, sure, but it made their shared hiding space a bit smaller. Also, there was no closet in this room, so it wasn’t like they could switch spots every so often. 

“I know,” Barbara replies, stretching forward as much as she can without disturbing the dust bunnies at the end of the bed. If she wanted to, she could make them dance for her own amusement, but they’re probably too small for their charge to notice, even if he was in the room. (Also, it probably wouldn’t even scare him.)

It’s two in the afternoon. After their charge had left, shutting the door behind him, they had waited for the front door to be slammed by his mother. Then, they’d crawled out from under the bed and entertained themselves by playing cards on the boy’s rug for a few hours. 

He usually arrived home around two, or two-fifteen, and his mother would be home at six. While it didn’t give them much time to stretch their legs, their charge was calmer. 

His name was Lawrence, Barbara knows this from the crumpled up homework sheets that find their way under his bed. Lawrence Shoggoth. 

“He doesn’t look like a Lawrence,” Adam had said, after they’d parsed the chicken scratch handwriting, watching him doing homework. He was stocky, with fluffy brown hair and dark brown eyes that always seemed fearful of something, and a scratchy voice. He wore a black and white striped hoodie constantly - it was, Barbara had thought, possibly the only one he had. He also wasn’t very good at spelling. 

He spelled his own name out loud when he wrote it on his homework, nearly every time, and the cluttered floor of his bedroom was full of failed spelling tests with sad faces drawn on them by his teachers. 

Today, when he walks into his bedroom, he adds a large, orange envelope to the clutter, but he deliberately doesn’t crumple it, Barbara notices. When Lawrence leaves to get a snack, she snatches it, pulling it under the bed where she’ll be able to read it.

“I think it’s his report card,” Adam says, twisting his head to look. Barbara nods, pulling out the sheet of paper. 

“His middle name is _Betelgeuse_? Wow,” Barbara snorts a little. The front page lists his information: his full name ( _Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth_ ), his age (twelve years old, with a birthday of April 13th), and his parents (mother, one Juno Shoggoth; father, unknown). 

The next page lists his grades. His highest is in science - he has a B minus, although the teacher noted that he has issues spelling. There’s also one C. The rest of his classes are Ds and Fs.

“What do the notes from the teachers say?” Adam asks. He’s on his back, and if he moves too much the bed will creak, so he can’t look at the report card too easily. 

“ _Lawrence is a very smart child, and the first to participate in any class discussion_ ,” Barbara reads. “His teachers like him, I think, but he seems like a class clown… also, they checked off here that they want him tested for dyslexia. And to go to an eye doctor.” She flips to the next page. “None of his vaccinations or dental records are up to date.” She doesn’t know much about humans, but those are things that they need for school for some reason, she thinks. 

“What? Aren’t those required?” Adam hisses. Lawrence has returned to his room, a granola bar in his hand. He looks miserable. 

Barbara’s heart goes out to him, for a moment, but then she remembers: she’s a _demon_ for god’s sake, and if she scares the shit out of this kid, she and Adam will be allowed back into the Netherworld. 

But then he reaches back, feeling for the envelope Barbara’s holding, and when he doesn’t find it, he panics. Barbara can see it in his eyes. Good. Maybe he’ll be easy to scare. 

“Oh no,” he whines, sifting through the balls of paper on his floor. “No, no, no…” 

When he turns back to look inside his backpack again, Barbara tosses the envelope back out, with all its papers back inside. Lawrence turns just as Barbara gets her hand back under his bed; the envelope drifts lazily to the floor. His eyes are wide as he takes it, and then he stands up, backing into the wall. 

“Scare him,” Adam whispers. “He’s already afraid - one good scream, we can get out of here, Barb!”

Adam is right, of course, he’s already afraid, and he’ll be much easier to scare. Scared kids are already jumpy. But she’ll definitely have to be careful. 

There’s a fine line between _already afraid_ and _traumatized_. 

Traumatized kids are harder to scare - if one demon fucks up a kid, then the next demon assigned to them could have a lot of trouble. Barbara and Adam don’t like to cause too much trouble, as a courtesy to their fellow demons. 

Her nails elongate and she reaches out from under the bed with one hand. Lawrence is breathing heavily, still against the wall. She lets her hair hang over her face, and the shadows from under the bed cover her. 

Then, Barbara strikes. 

She hovers over Lawrence, a foot off the ground, clawed hands near his head, hair hanging around both of them. 

And the only thing he does is cower and block his face, as though she’s about to hit him. He isn’t scared - not of her, anyway, she can tell. 

Barbara lights back down on her feet, heels clicking silently on the floor. Everything about her returns to normal. The bed creaks behind her - Adam crawling out, most likely. When she glances back, he’s halfway out, on his elbows, looking confused.

Lawrence is still cowering in front of her, so she steps back, and then sits on the edge of his bed. Adam crawls all the way out as their charge starts lowering his arms from his face. Under the baggy sleeves of his hoodie, Barbara notices for the first time, are what look like belt marks. 

They’re older, which relaxes her a bit - the older the trauma, the easier to scare, frankly - but next to those are teeth marks and bruises. The teeth marks, she and Adam know, are just one of Lawrence’s bad coping mechanisms. He bites his hands often when he’s stressed. 

The bruises are strange. Barbara can’t guess where they came from - Lawrence isn’t an active kid, not playing sports due to asthma. And Barbara and Adam don’t leave his room, not really, and especially not when his mother is home. Only children can see demons, usually, but on the off chance that his mother can, it’s not great to risk it. 

“Lawrence?” Barbara says gently. He’s too scared for them to scare him, so she might as well be nice. He’s still shielding himself - shoulders turned towards her, head ducked into his chest. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He replies, not moving, but eyeing them from his current position. 

“Er, well, we’re the monsters under your bed, so to speak,” Adam says from his spot on the floor. 

“The monsters under my bed?” Lawrence lowers his arms, finally, and he looks more curious than anything, nose scrunched up. That’s weird. Children are supposed to be _afraid_ of them, dammit!

And for a second Lawrence _does_ look afraid again, but not of them. A car door has slammed outside - his mother is home. “I gotta go,” he mumbles, running out and closing the door behind him. 

Barbara just looks at Adam, and he looks just as confused as she feels. 

~

“Lawrence. Did you get your report card today?” His mother barely looks at him as she takes off her coat. 

“Y-yeah, mom.” Lawrence is shaking. 

“I hope you did better than last quarter,” Juno snaps, ripping the slightly crumpled, sweaty envelope from her son’s hands. 

“I - I did, I think,” he mumbles in response. Last quarter, he’d had only Fs and Ds; this quarter, he had a B minus in one subject, and a C in another. His other grades hadn’t changed much. But maybe the B minus and the C will be good enough for her. 

Lawrence winces as Juno’s long nails scrape against the envelope - the sound is _awful_ \- but she pays him no mind. He fists his hands at his sides, gripping the soft, ratty sleeves of his hoodie in his hands. His elbows twitch. 

He doesn’t realize he’s humming until Juno slaps him. The large opal ring on her hand feels as though it’s hit him straight in the nose. “I’m trying to focus, Lawrence.” 

Lawrence nods. He’s actively biting his cheeks now - he’s so nervous. But if he’s quiet, Juno won’t hurt him. She doesn’t care how he stims as long as isn’t obvious. 

For her, not obvious doesn’t include things that hurt him. 

His elbows are twitching again, so he brings his hands up to his stomach to try and keep them still. Blood drips down to his mouth - her ring _did_ hit him on his nose, or at least it broke skin. 

“Stop that.” Lawrence slaps his hands down to his side, which doesn’t seem to please Juno either, but at least she’s still talking, now. Her face is pinched. “They want you tested for dyslexia?” 

Lawrence nods, clenching and unclenching his fists. He hopes Juno doesn’t consider this an obvious one - her opinions tend to change from day to day. And if he opens his mouth, he’ll definitely make her mad. 

Now she’s looking at him. “Lawrence.” 

She wants a verbal response. “Yes - yes - yes.” He winces as soon as the repeated word is out of his mouth. 

There’s no slap this time. Instead, Juno just rolls her eyes and grunts, “God, you’re such a screw-up.” It makes Lawrence feel like there’s a big pit in his stomach. “They already got me to take you to that fucking developmental specialist - if you can’t read, it’s your own damn fault. You’re almost _thirteen_ , for god’s sake, Lawrence.” 

“‘M sorry - sorry,” he stops himself before he says it the third time. “I’m trying my best, mom.” 

“Not hard enough.” Juno shakes her head at him, like she’s disgusted. “Go clean off your damn face. And then go to your room and _stay there_.” 

~

Barbara and Adam are ready when Lawrence returns. The floor outside his door creaks, and his footfalls are lighter than his mother’s. 

Adam tries to scare him, this time - eyeballs in his mouth, bloody, sharp fingers, and a creepy face. Lawrence merely flinches and throws his arms up as he had when Barbara had scared him. When he realizes it’s only Adam, he lowers his arms with a sigh and closes his bedroom door. “What the hell do you want with me, anyway?” 

“Um. Like Adam said, monsters under the bed. Our job is to scare you.” Barbara supplies. 

“Adam’s kind of a shitty name for a monster,” Lawrence replies with a snort. 

“Well, you don’t look much like a Lawrence either, Lawrence,” Adam replies, stepping behind him and floating a few feet above the ground. Lawrence jumps. 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” He grumbles. “And who are you?”

“My name’s Barbara! What should we call you? Typically, demons aren’t supposed to interact with their charges, but -” 

“BJ. It’s short for Beetlejuice.” Then, he grabs his pajamas from the desk. “I’m going to bed.” 

They’re demons, not perverts, so Adam and Barbara disappear back under the bed while he changes. All Barbara can see are his feet - his toenails are long and discolored. He climbs into bed not long after, and it creaks above them. 

“Goodn _iiiii_ ght,” Barbara sing songs, throwing her voice around the room. There’s no fear at all in their charge’s scent - he just rolls over, from the sound of it. 

Adam waits until he hears snoring to speak, but he and Barbara lock eyes as soon as they hear BJ stop tossing and turning. At his first snore, Adam whispers, “Isn’t Betelgeuse spelled with a ‘g’?” 

“I don’t know, but I guess we’ll just call him whatever he wants to be called.” Barbara shrugs. She winces when she hits her head on the box spring. “Anyway, we just have to scare him. Not too hard.” 

“Don’t jinx it,” Adam huffs with a roll of his eyes. Then, he grins, and begins rattling the bed frame. 

Barbara crawls out into the room. The only light coming in is from a streetlight that’s blocked by tattered blinds on BJ’s window. He rolls over, looking uncomfortable, as Adam’s shaking becomes more erratic, and Barbara leans down to sit right next to him, almost on top of him, on the edge of the bed. 

BJ screams when he wakes up, throwing his hands up in a way that’s now familiar to Barbara. She rolls her eyes as he lowers them, after Adam has stopped rattling the bed frame. “God, what’s wrong with you? You do that _every_ time we try to scare you, it’s getting old.”

Before BJ can respond, his door flies open. His mother stands in the doorway. It’s too late for Barbara to go back under the bed, but she floats up to the ceiling, with her back to it so she can watch whatever is about to happen. 

BJ is looking up at her, terrified, and she’s pleased for a moment - until she realizes that he’s looking to her for _help_. 

He’s shaking, humming off key, but not moving at all. His mother stands in the doorway, menacingly. Barbara can smell the alcohol on her breath, even across BJ’s room. Finally, she says, “Be quiet, or I’ll give you something to yell about, Lawrence.” 

She closes the door behind her, and when Barbara looks down at BJ, his hands are in front of his face again. _Oh._

Barbara has seen this before. Children hurt by their parents - she doesn’t understand it. Demons have such an instinct to protect their own that the idea of a parent abusing a child hardly registers. 

Traumatized children are harder to scare, after all. 

“Nothin’ - nothing nothing,” BJ hiccups, “is scarier than mom, that’s why I fucking do that!” He’s whispering, and his voice cracks from the strain of whispering and quieting his sobs at the same time. 

Adam, by now, has come up from under the bed. He glances at Barbara - they’re both at a loss. “Uh, there, there?” He tries, grimacing a bit. 

BJ just hiccups again - his sobs have quieted, but there are still silent tears running down his face. “Are you guys dead?” 

“That’s sudden,” Barbara snorts, reclining next to him. “But yeah, well - we’re demons, we were _born_ dead.” 

“Is the afterlife really bad?” 

Barbara sits straight up. Adam is chewing his lip thoughtfully, and BJ is pointedly looking at a weird stain on his quilt. “Trust me,” Adam says quietly. “You don’t want to go to the Netherworld, BJ. It’s pretty terrible.”

“I wasn’t fucking scared of you guys,” he replies bitterly. “If you’re the best they’ve got, bring it.” 

“No, no, we’re here precisely _because_ we’re terrible at being scary,” Adam tells him quickly. “It’s a rite of passage sort of thing.” 

“I could be scarier than you.” 

“BJ, that - that isn’t the point!” Barbara cries finally. God, they’ve gone from ghouls to therapists in ten seconds flat. “The Netherworld is _awful_ , and so is being dead! We’re used to it, we’ve been dead our whole lives, but you… you’d need some time to adjust to the whole ‘being dead’ thing! And you’re only two!”

“I’m twelve,” BJ responds, confusion clear on his face. 

“Wh - same difference!” Barbara replies. “Isn’t there anywhere else you can go?” 

“If I had somewhere else to go,” BJ fumes, volume rising, “don’t you think I would have fucking _left_ by now?!” 

The door slams open again. “Lawrence.” 

BJ stiffens. Then, he starts rocking, eyes wide. 

“I’m done with you. Get up.” BJ does. Barbara and Adam follow as his mother drags him out, nails digging into his arm hard enough to break skin. She opens the front door. “Out. Now.” 

“Mom -” 

“Out.” 

Barbara and Adam follow him onto the porch as his mother closes and locks the front door. It’s below freezing, and BJ is wearing only his boxers and a tee shirt. He’s already shivering. 

Ugh, this is why they’d been kicked out of the Netherworld. Too soft. Barbara sighs. “I’ll go and see if I can break a window or something to get you a blanket?” 

BJ shakes his head. Then, he starts walking off the porch. He’s barefoot - Barbara can see the dirt from the lawn sticking to his feet. She turns to Adam. “God, I feel like we should help him.” 

Adam nods. “We need him alive to scare him,” but she can tell that there are deeper reasons for him wanting to get BJ out of here. Too soft, the both of them. 

But then there’s a sound like an awful crunch. And a squeal of brakes, someone yelling “fuck!” out of a car window. 

She doesn’t look, but she hears the car back up again. More crunching. She hopes to god that BJ was dead on impact. 

She and Adam don’t stick around to check.


End file.
